


You And Me And the Devil Makes Three

by Center_of_the_Galaxy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester Tries, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mental Breakdown, Protective Dean Winchester, Self-Harming Sam Winchester, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Center_of_the_Galaxy/pseuds/Center_of_the_Galaxy
Summary: The pain was the only thing that grounded him.





	You And Me And the Devil Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I wrote this in response to a post on Tumblr. Feel free to send me fanfic requests there if you're interested in more drabbles like this. I can be found at: https://centerofthegalaxywrites.tumblr.com
> 
> Please note that there is self-harm in this story. If that bothers you, please don't read.

The pain was the only thing that grounded him.

That damn scar, the one he knew he shouldn’t pick last, lest it become infected and god, Dean would have a fit if that happened, but honestly, in a world where he couldn’t make sense of who he was most days, this was his coping mechanism. He could barely even look at Bobby after the actions of his soulless self and Castiel was off on a bender, possibly ending the world with his crazy actions and Dean . . .

Dean had too much on his plate. He didn’t need a delusional, crazy, pathetic brother to add to his list.

“Sammy,” A sinister voice whispered in ear and Sam did his best not to jump, “I’m bored. Wanna blow your brains out and play a new game?”

The Devil laughed. He always laughed, high pitched and echoing in Sam’s ears long after he vanished. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t real.

“Oh, I’m real,” Lucifer cackled, a smirk tugging on his lips, “I’m the only real thing here. Me and you ‘til the end, Sam.”

Sam fingers instantly darted to that scar and he dug his fingernail in there, hard, trying to draw blood, trying to drown this vision of Lucifer, to send him away. Lucifer flickered, but he still had that damn smile on his face, like he knew that this was all some big futile game that the youngest Winchester was playing at.

And maybe it was. Maybe he was right. Maybe he never made it out of the pit. Maybe Dean and Bobby were out there, living their lives. This gruff, broken version of Dean and the scornful Bobby that glared at him daily—maybe, they were the lie. Maybe Sam had died to save the world, and this was the price of that. But he could do that. He could survive and hang on knowing his family was safe.

“I’m bored, Sam!” Lucifer shouted, sighing dramatically as he took a seat at Bobby’s kitchen table, dragging the chair across the floor, sitting much too close to the youngest Winchester, “Let’s end this, okay? Let’s play a new game.”

Sam dug his hand harder in, drew more blood, but still wasn’t enough. It was becoming harder and harder now to stay in this reality, to focus less on Lucifer and more on Dean.

“Sam!” Dean was there, rough hands that he’d known since childhood pulling his bleeding hand away. His older brother grimaced; a much too tired expression well-worn on his face. Dean sighed raggedly, “He’s back?”

Sam nodded slowly, “I’m sorry.”

And he was. Truly. This wasn’t the life he’d wanted for Dean, having to care for a baby brother losing his mind. This was too much of a burden. It wasn’t right.

“Then die!” Lucifer suggested snidely, before returning to humming _The Devil Went Down To Georgia. _He’d told him once, in-between rounds of torture, that the song had been true, though, Lucifer claimed he’d let kid win.

See? Random facts from the Devil occupied his brain. How could he be any help to Dean like this?

“Sammy, look at me.” In the agonizing seconds it took to move his eyes from the Devil in the corner to his brother, Dean had already bandaged the wound. Warm green eyes pooled with concern met his and his brother lowered his voice, “I’ve got you. We’ll fix this.”

Sam swallowed nervously, “We can’t fix this.”

Dean shook his head, “Don’t say that—” 

“I’m broken, Dean. I can’t even tell what’s real.”

“We’ll figure out. That’s what we do, right? Figure shit like this out?”

But Sam knew that this was one problem they wouldn’t figure out. Either he’d give into the Devil (like he’d done two years ago) or he’d completely lose his mind. Neither was ideal and neither Dean would accept. Still, Sam couldn’t bear it to add to the burden on his brother’s shoulder.

So, like he’d learned so many years ago, he met his brother’s gaze—

“Yeah, Dean, we will.”

—and lied.


End file.
